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Lunchboxes on the walls, latkes on your plate

What’s "an upper middle class Jewish kid from Miami" to do when all his friends become doctors and lawyers? Become a lawyer for doctors, naturally! “just a blue collar cook” who’s opening, well...Blue Collar, a retro-dinerish spot serving all his childhood faves out of a storefront in the awesomely shady Biscayne Inn, with an open kitchen, mid-century white mod chairs, and a wall full of vintage lunchboxes to make it “as inviting as your favorite pair of jeans", although they probably clean this place more often

Bigger plates deliver crispy-skin snapper w/ rock shrimp fried rice, fried tempura grouper, and the "Big Ragout" pasta piled w/ veal shoulder, pork, and brisket, in addition to chalkboarded daily specials ranging from short ribs to braised ox tail -- as opposed to Mox tail, which silly Dawson just walks right out on even though it’s only wearing whipped cream

For boozing purposes, they've got nothing but Manischewitz flowing like goddamn water beer and wine, including a Barbera that's "light and tangy", plus Cigar City IPA, Terrapin Rye, and Guinness in “really big cans”, which can presumably also be provided by many of the owner’s doctor buddies.